


Jim Moriarty, Hi!

by Newrose12



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, S1E3 missing scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 10:43:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3206294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Newrose12/pseuds/Newrose12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a missing scene from when John leaves the flat and shows up again at the pool with a bomb strapped to his chest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jim Moriarty, Hi!

**Author's Note:**

> I've been thinking about how John ended up at the pool with that bomb strapped to him and kinda wish we could have seen how it happened, but since we can't, I made up my own version. It may not be very good, but I really enjoyed writing this. Please let me know what you think. Thanks!

 John exits the flat with a shake of his head and a chuckle, Sherlock volunteered to pick up the milk, surely the world was coming to an end.

“John?” a voice calls from behind him as he turns to walk down the street, “John Watson.” He turns to find a man there who looks vaguely familiar, but he can't put his finger on why. “Jim,” the man goes on, pointing to himself, “Jim from IT, I work with Molly.”

“Oh, yes, hello,” John says and holds out his hand to which the other man shakes, “sorry I didn't recognize you at first.”

“No problem, we only met the once,” the other man says with a smile, “now that I've run into you, can I ask a favor?”

“Depends,” John says, looking down the road, “I'm on my way to a friends.” He feels a prick in the side of his neck and turns as his vision starts to go blurry and watches as a white van pulls up.

“No you're not,” Jim says as two men jump out and pull John into the van.

* * *

 

“John,” a voice, accompanied by a foot prodding him in the side reaches John as he starts to wake. “Johnny-boy, wakey wakey,” the voice says in a sing song voice.

He lays there for several moments assessing his situation with his eyes closed, he is lying on a hard, cold surface, somewhere in the background he can hear water dripping and he can smell chlorine. Opening his eyes, he shuts them quickly as a headache surges forward, making him groan and press a hand over his eyes to block out the light.

“Oh, sorry about that,” the voice goes on, “forgot what a nasty headache that causes.”

“Where am I?” John asks, opening his eyes a slit and looking up and around finding himself surrounded by lockers and wooden benches, that combined with the chlorine smell tells him he's at a pool.

“This,” the same voice says and a moment later a pair of shoes come into his eye-line as he turns his head in the direction of the speaker, “is the Brighton pool, where Sherlock Holmes first started.”

“Where Carl Powers died,” John says mostly to himself.

“Very good! You're not as useless as you seem,” the voice says and John looks up and into the face of Jim, from IT.

“Jim?” he asks, confused and the other man smirks at him and John takes another look. Gone is the man from earlier, in his place stands a man that John fears on instinct. From his slicked hair to his shoes that shine enough that would make any of his old army buddies jealous, there is something dangerous about the man who stands before him.

“Yes, my name is Jim, but I'm not from IT,” the other man explains and his smirk grows wider, “Jim Moriarty at your service.” It takes John a moment but he's up and trying to move away from the other man as his words sink in. “I wouldn't do that if I were you,” the other man goes on but John doesn't stop until his back hits a row of lockers. “Seriously, look down,.” John does what's asked, though reluctant to let the other man out of his sights, and jerks back when he realized there's a bomb strapped to his chest.

“Oh my God,” he says looking between the bomb and the man in front of him.

“I prefer Jim,” the other man says and John tries to even out his breathing, knowing that panicking wont help.

“What is this?” John demands and Jim takes a seat on a bench to his left.

“This, John, is the end game, it's time for me and Sherlock to stop pussyfooting around each other and have it out.”

“Why me?”

“Because, you're the only one that I can use to get to him, Molly was no help,” Jim says with a roll of his eyes, “all she did was talk about him. That girl has it bad,” he says in a stage whisper as if he's sharing a secret. “Molly thought flaunting her relationship with me in front of him would cause him to react and I needed a way to meet him. At least one of us reached our goal. So, all in all, Molly was a bust, but I did learn one thing from our brief meeting, and that was, that you were the way to get to him.”

“I'm not going to help you, I don't care if you blow me up, but I won't hurt him.”

“That is where you are wrong Johnny-boy,” Moriarty says cheerfully, “you're going out there and you're going to say exactly what I tell you to.” He holds up a ear piece and leans forward to put in on him, but John pulls away.

“Oh, don't be like that,” Moriarty says with a sigh before grabbing John's head by the hair and holding him still before pushing the piece into his ear and hooking the other end to John's pants. “You'll be able to hear everything I say, and as a bonus,” he says, holding up another ear piece, “I'll be able to hear anything you say, so no giving away the punchline before I say so. Put this on,” he says and shoves a green jacket at him but John refuses to move.

A door opens behind Moriarty and he turns and there is a man standing there, dressed all in black and he nods and Moriarty turns back to John..

“Good, he's here, right on time,” Moriarty says with a grin, “gotta love a man who is punctual,” he says and pulls John to his feet. “Make sure he goes out that door,” he says to the man who just stepped in and turns to leave. The man approaches John and pulls a gun out from behind his back and jerks his head to the door to Johns left.

“No,” John refuses, glaring at the man as he squares his shoulders and stares down the barrel of the gun that is now pointing between his eyes and doesn't twitch when the man cocks it. “No,” he says more firmly when the man takes a threatening step towards him.

“Now, now, John,” Moriarty's voice comes over the ear piece and John flinches, unprepared, he had nearly forgotten it was there. “Let me put it to you this way, I have some very not nice friends and one of them is in front of you. If you do not walk through those doors in the next thirty seconds, I'll have my friend there drag you out and put a bullet in his brain, before I blow you up.”

“Put on the coat,” the man in front of him demands again, holding it out and John takes it, jerking it out of his hand, contemplating his chances of wrestling the gun from him.

“Fifteen seconds John,” Moriarty warns and he jerks the coat on, glaring at the man in front of him.

“Go to hell Mr. Moriarty,” John mutters and turns on his heel and clenches his jaw when he hears the other man laugh over the line.

“Five... four... three... oh, I almost forgot,” he says suddenly and the vest wrapped around his chest beeps and John jerks, stopping in his tracks, “forgot to arm it,” Moriarty explains and John curses. “Anyway where were we? Oh right, we were on two, yes?”

John closes his eyes for a moment and pushes through the door as Moriarty says 'one'.


End file.
